


Soldiering On

by Persiflage



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Bernie Wolfe in Uniform, Bernie Wolfe/Alex Dawson (Past), Clothed Sex, F/F, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Royal Military Policewoman Bernie Wolfe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:13:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24853633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: Canon Divergence: Major Berenice Wolfe, Royal Military Police, comes looking for her AWOL Captain Keeley Carson and meets one Serena Campbell. It's a match made in Heaven.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 4
Kudos: 78





	Soldiering On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lapal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lapal/gifts).



> Written for Lapal's birthday, I was asked for fluff and smut, so I hope this is acceptable. (It does have light angst but it's angst with a happy ending, so...)
> 
> (No, I don't know where the idea of Bernie being in the RMP instead of the RAMC came from either. Bitch Muse is always having out there ideas!)

“Who’s in charge here, please?” 

The husky female voice has Serena Campbell lifting her head from the computer at the nurses’ station on AAU to stare wide eyed at the military woman in front of her. She’s wearing a red beret and green camouflage fatigues, and has deep brown eyes, wisps of blonde hair escaping from under the beret, a hawkish nose, and lips that look made for kissing. It’s the last thought that pulls Serena up short, mentally, and makes her pay attention because she doesn’t _kiss_ women. Flirt with, yes, kiss, no. Definitely not. Never. Although she thinks she’d happily make an exception for this one.

“Me,” Serena says, standing up and circling around the desk. “Serena Campbell, Deputy CEO of Holby City General Hospital and lead surgeon here on AAU. How can I help?”

The woman gives her a swift, appraising glance, but her poker expression is too good for Serena to infer any of her thoughts from the glance. “Major Berenice Wolfe, Royal Military Police,” the blonde says, holding out a hand, which Serena shakes. It’s a firm, strong handshake without being painful, and Serena tries not to enjoy the sensation of long, slender fingers clasping her own. “I believe you’ve got one of our soldiers on your ward.” 

The Major turns and scans the beds, frowning, then turns back.

“Why don’t you come into my office,” Serena suggests, “and we can discuss this more discreetly.” She has already spotted the interested gazes of both Raf and Fletch, and she’d rather not give them any more fuel for gossip at Albie’s, or the hospital rumour mill in general.

“Thank you.” The Major follows Serena into her office, and closes the door behind her, then stands at attention in the small space between the door and the Serena’s desk. It’s strange, because she’s barely a couple of inches taller than Serena, yet somehow she seems to loom taller in the confined space of the consultant’s office. 

Serena finds herself clutching her pendant and sliding it back and forth along its chain at the base of her throat, and she feels a shiver slip down her spine when she realises that the Major has noted the nervous gesture.

“Have a seat,” she says, gesturing at the visitor’s chairs along the wall near her desk.

“I prefer to stand,” the Major says. “I don’t anticipate this taking long. I’m looking for Captain Keeley Carson and I understand she was brought in here after an RTC.”

Serena blows out a breath. “We did treat a Keeley Carson, yes. She came in about–” She glances at the clock on her computer. “About three hours ago. She had an avulsed kidney and she had to have it removed. She’s currently recovering up in ITU.”

“Right, I’ll head up there, then.”

Serena chuckles softly. “You don’t know much about medicine, do you Major Wolfe?”

That earns her a frown. “What do you mean?”

“It means that Ms Carson isn’t currently in a fit state to be seen by anyone other than her medical team. I doubt she’s even awake yet following her surgery. Are you aware of the details of the accident?”

Bernie shakes her head. “When she didn’t show up for Morning Parade at 10am, my colleagues began calling the local hospitals, then the hospitals further afield. I was simply told that a Keeley Carson had been brought into Holby City General Hospital early this morning, that she’d been injured sufficiently badly enough to warrant a stay in the hospital and that I would find her on AAU. I drove straight up here from Aldershot Camp.”

Serena nods. “From what the police were able to establish, the car in which Ms Carson was travelling was swerving erratically across the road. It was hit by another car which was being driven by a young woman, who was pregnant at the time.”

“At the time?” Bernie repeats in a sharp tone.

“I delivered the child myself with the aid of my colleagues as she was in danger of losing the baby. It’s still possible we’ll lose Ms Tyler, although she’s being well looked after since the birth. The baby too.”

Bernie nods. 

“Perhaps, while you’re waiting to see Ms Carson you’d like to interview the young man who was in the car with her? I believe he’s down in the hospital coffeeshop, Pulses. I can show you if you like.”

The Major gives her an inscrutable look, blows out a breath in a surprisingly human gesture, then nods. “Yes, please, Ms Campbell.”

“Call me Serena,” she says, and resists the urge to add, ‘Call me anytime’ because she’s still trying to accept the fact that she’s attracted to women, or at least to one woman in particular. _Is it the uniform?_ she wonders. _Would I find her less attractive out of that uniform?_ Then she blushes as she realises just where her thoughts have taken her.

“Thank you, Serena,” the Major says. “People usually call me Bernie.”

Serena can’t help smirking a bit. “Berenice is a bit of a mouthful,” she says, and it comes out sounding far flirtier than she intends and she sees Bernie’s cheekbones turn pink, a somewhat duskier colour than the pink of her lips. 

She realises she’s staring at Bernie’s lips and forces herself to focus when the other woman returns her smirk and Serena feels her knees go weak because this woman’s smirk is actually devastating. She gestures Bernie out of the office, then leads the way across the ward and into the lift. Which she realises too late is probably a mistake because the space within the lift is even smaller than her office and she very much wants to kiss this woman, even though she’s never kissed a woman before. (Well, she did, once, but that time at that party in Stepney when she was 22 doesn’t count – they were both drunk and she never even saw Natalie Chandler again.)

The Major stands beside her, legs spread, and hands clasped behind her back, and Serena can’t help asking, “Have you been in the Royal Military Police for long?” She cringes once the words are out of her mouth because the question sounds too much like the sort of thing you’d ask on a first date.

“Twenty five years,” Bernie tells her, and Serena can see from the twitch of her lips that she has also noticed the similarity of the question. “Been a surgeon long?”

Serena smirks. “I’ve been in medicine twenty five years,” she says. “I’ve been a surgeon less time than that because you have to work your way up to that position.” 

“Much like I had to work my way up through the ranks to become a Major, I expect,” Bernie says.

Their fumbling attempts at small talk are cut off when the lift stops and the doors open. And while their attempts were somewhat stilted, Serena feels a pang of disappointment at not getting to talk to Bernie further.

She glances around the coffeeshop, then spots the young man who’d come in with the errant Captain. “I see him,” Serena tells Bernie and leads the way over to the table in the corner where a dark haired young man is sitting with a Pulses coffee cup in front of him, peering down at the phone that’s resting on the tabletop in front of him.

“Mr Dunn, this is–”

Her introduction is cut off by simultaneous voices saying “Cameron?” and “Madre?” in questioning tones. She looks from the young man’s face, which is covered in lacerations from the earlier car crash, to the face of the Major, which has gone stern and chilly, and she takes a step back. 

“My son, Cameron Dunn,” Bernie says, every inch the Major now. “And quite what he was doing with Captain Carson I cannot begin to imagine.”

“It’s really none of your business, Mother,” Cameron says, his tone more sulky than icy.

“Perhaps you’d like to borrow my office?” Serena suggests. “It would afford you some privacy for what I suspect is going to be a fraught conversation.”

“Thank you, Ms Campbell, I appreciate the offer.” She nods at her son. “Come along, Cameron.”

“You can’t order me around, Madre. I’m not one of your toy soldiers.”

Bernie pinches the bridge of her nose and opens her mouth, but Serena intervenes, asking in a quiet voice, “Mr Dunn, do you really want to air your family’s dirty laundry in front of the entire hospital?”

He seems to take in all the eyes pointed their way and swallows hard. “No. I apologise, Ms Campbell.” She nods, looking expectantly at him and he adds, in a grudging tone, “I apologise, mother.” 

“Let’s take this upstairs,” Serena says, daring to rest one hand on Bernie’s forearm in order to forestall whatever she might be about to say. Cameron glances at her hand on his mother’s arm and his expression turns as inscrutable as Bernie’s had earlier, though she has no idea why he’s looking at her like that. Dismissing the matter, she leads the way back to the lift and when its doors open, she ushers her former patient and her visitor inside.

The ride up is less friendly than the ride down had been, and the silence in the lift car seems to thicken around them until Serena feels acutely uncomfortable. She sees Cameron’s shoulders hunching up towards his ears and when she glances to her right, she can see that Bernie’s spine is ramrod straight, and she longs to say “At ease” to get the other woman to relax at least a little. She says nothing, however, beyond “This way” when they exit the lift, and Cameron follows her, with his mother bringing up the rear. 

She closes the blinds and prepares to leave them to it; she’s surprised when they both simultaneously say, “Please stay”.

“Very well,” she says, and gestures for Cameron to sit in one of the visitor’s chairs. “Take a seat, Major,” Serena adds, and to her surprise the other woman does sit down, although she picks the chair at the desk across from her own.

She decides to start the conversation herself. “I believe, Mr Dunn, that you said that you were driving Ms Carson back to Aldershot from Holby?”

“Yes.” 

Cameron’s attention is wholly fixed on Serena, almost as if he’s trying to deny his mother’s presence in the office. 

“You said you went to a party last night and that Ms Carson was ‘a bit worse for wear’, so she stayed the night with you, then you offered to drive her back to the camp this morning, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“I didn't think of it earlier because I was too busy rushing to stop her from bleeding out, but it was the right hand kidney that was avulsed.”

“And?” asks Bernie in a stern tone, startling Serena, who’d momentarily forgotten the other woman was there, so focused was she on Cameron. 

“The police said the car was hit on the right,” Serena says.

“It's torsion from the seat belt,” Cameron says. “It affects drivers and passengers alike.”

“While that is true,” Serena says, “if Ms Carson was the passenger, then it would make sense for her left kidney to be the one affected. But if she was the one driving the car, then the right kidney would be the one that was avulsed. Which is, in fact, the case. So, you see, Mr Dunn, you lied to me. And I suspect you also lied to the police when they were in here to interview you earlier.”

Cameron twitches, almost as if he’s going to bolt from the room, but Bernie’s reflexes are incredibly fast, and she stands up before he can even rise from the chair. 

“Is this true?” she asks. “Was Carson driving while under the influence of alcohol?”

Cameron mumbles something indistinct, and Bernie snaps out, “Cameron Dunn, answer me at once.”

He flushes bright red, then gives her a defiant look. “I love Keeley and we’re going to get married.”

“I very much doubt that,” Bernie says. “You realise that if Sally Tyler – that’s the name of the pregnant woman who was in the car that hit yours due to Carson’s erratic driving – dies, then Carson will be tried for manslaughter. And even if Ms Tyler doesn’t die, Carson will still be tried for dangerous driving and when she’s found guilty, she’ll be sentenced to prison for two years.”

“Sh-she might die?” Cameron stutters. He turns to Serena. “I thought you saved her?”

Serena gives a half shrug. “I delivered the baby and stopped her from bleeding out. There’s no guarantee that she still won’t die, although the team looking after her will do everything necessary to ensure she survives.” She gives him a stern look (though not as stern as the one his mother is still bending on him). “Cameron, you need to tell us the truth. Do you really want to go to prison on manslaughter charges?”

“No.” He sounds sulky, she notices, but no longer sullen or defiant. 

“Were you, in actual fact, driving the car into which Ms Tyler crashed this morning?” Serena asks.

“No.”

Bernie gives Serena a sharp nod, then disappears out of the door. 

“God,” gasps Cameron. “I’ve fucked everything up, haven’t I?” He looks up, flushing. “I beg your pardon, Ms Campbell. I didn’t mean to swear.”

“In the circumstances, you’re forgiven,” Serena tells him, patting his knee. 

“What am I going to do?”

“Well, you’ll have to be re-interviewed by the police, I expect. And you’ll have to tell them the truth this time. I’d hope you’ll get off with a warning for wasting police time.”

He swallows, then nods. “My mother will never forgive me.”

“Is she really that much of an ogre?” Serena asks curiously.

He flushes a second time. “No. To be honest, I haven’t seen much of her since the divorce. Charlie – my sister – and I were pretty pissed off at her when she told dad that she wanted a divorce and when dad asked us to write letters the lawyer could use in court, we both agreed. Talked about how she was hardly around when we were kids because she was posted overseas a few times to serve with regiments sent to Iraq and Afghanistan.” He swallows again, the sound loud in the silent office. “It was a pretty awful thing to do to her, actually. Then she got injured and came back to England permanently, and when Charlie and I visited she told us she’d asked dad for a divorce because she’d realised she’s a lesbian.” He shoots her an alarmed look, as if realising he’s just outed his mother to a stranger. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“I won’t say anything,” Serena promises.

He nods. “She told us that she’d fallen for a Captain in the RAMC while serving alongside them and that was when she realised that while she loved dad as her best mate and our father, the way she felt about him was nothing like the way she felt for Alex, the RAMC Captain. So she asked him for a divorce because she wasn’t prepared to cheat on him, even if he wouldn’t know since the two of them were overseas.”

“A very honourable woman,” Serena says, thinking bitterly of her own ex-husband and how he hadn’t possessed the slightest scruple about cheating on her, repeatedly.

“Yeah,” Cameron says heavily, sighing. “Anyway, Charlie’s made it up with Madre – they were always close – but I haven’t, not really. I mean, I love her. She’s my mother and she’s very kind and generous, and I know she loves me, but she’s pretty strict and very honourable, like you said, and I just never felt like I could live up to her ideals. That’s why I picked medicine rather the military for a career. Dad’s easier to live up to, somehow.”

“It was very honourable of you to protect Ms Carson,” Serena points out. “Completely inadvisable, of course, when it’s a police matter, but still honourable. Maybe your mother’s ideals aren’t as hard to live up to as you thought.”

“Huh.”

“I’ll leave you to think that through,” Serena says. “I suggest you stay here for the time being. I imagine that once your mother has spoken to them, the police officers who’ve been waiting to interview Ms Carson will be down to re-interview you.”

He hunches his shoulders, his hands shoved between his thighs. “I’m going to be in so much trouble,” he says bitterly. 

“Not as much as you’d be in if the police had discovered your lie in some other fashion – for example, by a witness coming forward and stating clearly that you’d been in the passenger seat.”

He nods, and Serena gets up, pats him on the shoulder, then leaves him sitting in her office. She crosses to the nurses’ station and has barely settled into a chair there when Bernie reappears, the two police officers from earlier in tow. She catches Serena’s eye and tilts her head towards the office and Serena nods, getting a nod in return before Bernie leads them inside.

Bernie re-emerges shortly afterwards and crosses to join Serena. 

“Okay?” she asks, thinking that the Major is looking very weary.

Bernie nods. “Your colleagues upstairs tell me that it’ll be another hour or so before either I or the police can interview Carson.”

“You look like you could use a caffeine shot,” Serena observes.

The Major rubs a hand over her face. “I feel like it, too,” she says, her tone implying that it’s not an easy admission to make. Serena suspects this woman dislikes showing weakness, or what she considers to be weakness.

“Why don’t we go and grab a coffee from Pulses?” Serena suggests. “And when was the last time you ate?”

Bernie gives her such a blank look that Serena has to hold back from scolding her. Instead, she rounds the desk, then tilts her head in the direction of the lift. “Coming?” 

She doesn’t know what possesses her to slide her hand down Bernie’s arm and grasp her hand as they head towards the lift, unless it’s the fact that the woman beside her seems less like the military policewoman of earlier and more like a stressed out mother. She can’t help wondering how much Bernie sees of Alex, if the other woman’s a member of the RAMC, then it occurs to her, rather belatedly that she’s holding hands with another woman’s girlfriend, though when Bernie makes no move to pull her hand free she wonders if, perhaps, Bernie and Alex are not together. 

Serena lets go of Bernie’s hand to press the call button for the lift and, as if she’s been reading her thoughts, Bernie murmurs, “I can’t remember the last time someone touched me with such kindly intent.” 

Serena glances down at Bernie’s left hand and tries not to smile when the Major immediately slides her hands behind her back.

“I’m single. I divorced my husband five years ago after making the late-in-life discovery that I’m a lesbian. I was with a Captain in the RAMC for nearly two years after my divorce, but I’ve been single for the last three years. Had the occasional date, but it’s not easy dating when you’re a serving officer.”

“I divorced my feckless husband when my Elinor was eight. She’s a few years younger than your son Cameron. He was an alcoholic and a serial adulterer, and I decided Ellie was better off without a father than with one who was such a despicable human being. It’s not that easy dating when you’re a surgeon who works long hours and deputy CEO of a hospital, so I empathise.”

“Thank you.”

They enter the lift and Serena asks, “What made you join the RMP?”

Bernie shrugs. “Family precedence. I’ve an uncle in the RMP, and my paternal grandfather before him was also a military policeman. Plus, I didn’t want to be an actual combatant. I did, briefly, consider medicine and the RAMC, but in the end I decided to follow the family tradition.” 

The lift door opens, and they’re soon settled in the relative peace and quiet of the coffeeshop with strong, hot coffees and ‘medicinal’ pastries. Serena suspected Bernie wouldn’t buy one for herself, so she bought two pain au chocolat and circumvented any attempt at protest.

“You can pay me back the next time you’re this way,” Serena suggests, and earns a soft smile in response. They spend some time talking about their respective careers, specifically the difficulties of being women in senior roles, and Serena watches as Bernie visibly relaxes, the tension in her body releasing so that her posture gradually becomes less rigid.

They’re still talking when the police officers walk out of the lift with Cameron in tow and Bernie immediately goes stiff again, then gets to her feet.

“Major Wolfe,” says DI Starling, “your son is accompanying us to the station to make a formal statement. Then he’ll be free to go. We’ve already cautioned him about making false statements and wasting police time, but we won’t be taking that matter forward at this time since he came to us of his own free will.”

“Very well.” Bernie looks at her son, whose defiance is gone. “I’d like to see you before I head back to the camp, if that’s acceptable?”

Cameron nods. “Text me. I don’t have any plans for the rest of the day.”

Bernie nods and sits back down, not watching as the police escort Cameron outside.

“Would you like to come and have dinner with me?” Serena asks, a little more tentatively than she normally would. “Or will you need to get straight back to the camp?”

“My superiors won’t necessarily expect me back tonight,” Bernie says. “I’ll need to interview Carson and liaise with the police. I believe I can justify staying to have dinner with you if I do go back tonight.”

Serena smiles. “Good. Let’s swap phone numbers, then later we can sort out what time you’re coming over, once you’ve interviewed Carson, talked to the police, and seen your son, of course.”

They enter their numbers into each other’s phones, establish that Bernie has no food allergies or intolerances, then make their way upstairs, Serena to AAU and Bernie to the ITU.

As Serena makes her way back to her office she can’t help thinking that the day has turned out far more interesting than she could’ve anticipated. The one thing she definitely didn’t expect to do today was find herself fancying a military woman. 

SC-BW-SC-BW-SC

Bernie arrives promptly at Serena’s door at 7.30pm and when she sees her, Serena has to fight off a tendency to swoon: the Major has swapped her fatigues for civvies in the shape of skinny black jeans, a long sleeved white shirt half unbuttoned over a black vest top, and a leather jacket. She’s also let her hair down out of the French twist she wore it up in earlier, and it’s been allowed to tumble to her shoulders in soft waves, her fringe looking unruly as it falls in her eyes.

“My, my, Major, don’t you scrub up nicely,” Serena purrs and can’t help smirking a little when the other woman’s face pinks along her cheekbones.

“Thank you,” Bernie says softly. “These are for you.”

Serena’s a little stunned at the sight of the bouquet of flowers. “They’re lovely, thank you. They’re completely unnecessary, but I appreciate them, nonetheless. Come in.”

Bernie steps into the hallway and immediately sheds her leather jacket and her boots, then pads, sock-clad, down the hall in Serena’s wake. 

“I hope you don’t mind if we’re a bit informal tonight,” she says, feeling a little nervous.

“I honestly don’t mind informality. Ever.” She smirks and Serena has to fight a swoon for a second time. “I get plenty of formality on a daily basis.”

“Cheeky,” Serena says, swatting her arm.

Bernie’s smirk deepens and Serena turns away to find a vase for her flowers. “I can’t recall the last time someone gave me flowers,” she says. “Not even Elinor got me some for Mother’s Day.”

“Well that’s a shame,” Bernie says, leaning against the counter a short distance away from the sink where Serena’s filling the vase with water. “Someone as beautiful as you should be given flowers regularly.”

“Major Wolfe are you flirting with me?” she asks, feeling a little shaken at the idea. It’s usually Serena who does the flirting.

“Will you be annoyed if I say ‘Yes’?”

“Flattered,” Serena tells her.

“Then yes, Ms Campbell, I am flirting with you.” Bernie clasps her right hand and lifts it to press a soft kiss to her knuckles, then she turns her hand over and presses a second kiss to her palm, sending a shiver of excitement down Serena’s spine. A third kiss is pressed to the inside of her wrist, Bernie’s dark eyes watching her intently throughout, as if gauging how acceptable her kisses are.

“C’mere you,” Serena growls, grabbing Bernie’s free hand and drawing her in close. The kiss she shares with Bernie is searing in its intensity and she feels heat slide down her back before it settles between her legs, leaving her painfully aroused. Bernie backs her against the counter, her well-muscled thigh pressing firmly between her thighs, applying exactly the right amount of pressure. 

“Is this okay?” the blonde asks.

Serena’s right hand is in Bernie’s hair while her left arm wraps across her shoulders, holding her close. “More than okay.”

“Could you come like this?” Bernie asks against her lips, her voice gone low and husky. 

“Yes,” Serena breathes.

“Do you want to come, Serena?”

“Oh god, yes! Please!”

“Good girl.” Bernie nips at her bottom lip, then begins rocking her thigh as her hands slide down Serena’s back before firmly clasping her buttocks, kneading and squeezing her arse through her trousers. It’s not long before Serena’s grip on Bernie’s shoulders tightens and she wails in pleasure as her orgasm rips though her to leave her weak kneed and shaky.

“I’ve wanted you all day,” Bernie says, her voice still husky.

“The first time I set eyes on you, I thought your lips looked kissable,” Serena admits. “I – uh – it was a bit of a shock. I haven’t kissed another woman for nearly thirty years.”

“And are you regretting it now?” asks Bernie. Her hands are clasping Serena’s hips, holding her steady, for which she’s grateful.

“No,” she says firmly. “I couldn’t regret that.” She draws Bernie’s head back towards her own and kisses her, doing her best to steal the breath from her lungs.

“Fuck, Serena!” the Major gasps when they finally part to heave breath into their lungs.

“Are you close?” Serena asks interestedly.

“So close,” Bernie agrees. She seems to be shaking with need and Serena feels a visceral thrill at the realisation that she did that to this woman.

“What do you need, love?” she asks.

Bernie unfastens her jeans, then draws Serena’s hand inside. It’s a bit cramped because the jeans are so tight (not that Serena’s complaining – she loves the way the dark denim clings to Bernie’s thighs and arse), but she manages to slide her hand into Bernie’s underwear. She notes, without conscious thought, that Bernie’s bush is much tamer than her own, then she moans, practically simultaneously with the blonde, as her fingers find her slick heat.

It only takes a couple of minutes of thrusting, then Bernie’s shaking for a different reason as her orgasm hits her hard.

“Fuck,” she gasps. “I’d never have known you hadn’t done that before if you hadn’t told me.”

Serena smirks, preening at the compliment. Then the oven timer dings, and they look at each other in startlement before they start laughing. They take it turns to wash their hands, then as Bernie refastens her jeans, Serena starts serving up dinner.

They talk freely of their relationship experiences over dinner and as they’re clearing the table afterwards Serena learns of Captain Alex Dawson of the RAMC, the woman who had quite unwittingly made Bernie realise that she had been repressing her sexuality for her whole life, and with whom Bernie had spent nearly two years before Alex was killed by a roadside IED.

“I got off lightly,” Bernie explains. “I came away with an unstable C5/C6 spinal fracture with a traumatised cervical disc in the same area, and a pseudoaneurysm in the right ventricle. Alex was killed, Jeremy ended up losing a leg, and Maxine, our interpreter, she lost an eye.”

“You’re lucky you weren’t left permanently paralysed,” Serena says, appalled by the extent of Bernie’s injuries.”

“Well, I nearly died on the operating table. The cardio guy had to actually get his hands in my chest and re-start my heart that way. I’ve been left with a weak back as a consequence – which is why I don’t go on overseas postings any more: bouncing over barely there roads would do a number on my back, according to my physiotherapist, and could easily do worse and more permanent damage.”

“You’re a very lucky woman,” Serena says, reaching for Bernie’s hand across the table. She rubs the pad of her thumb over the back of her hand and looks up when Bernie makes a noise in the back of her throat.

“Believe me,” she says huskily. “I am very aware of how lucky I am.” Her gaze is heated and Serena swallows as she feels that heat piercing her.

“Bernie,” she whispers.

“Yes, Serena?”

“Do you have to go back tonight?”

“No.”

“Then come to bed.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more certain of anything,” Serena says firmly.

Bernie swallows, then nods. “Let me go and get my kitbag from my boot.” Serena raises an eyebrow and the Major chuckles weakly. “Oi, no. It’s not like that. I never know when I might have to stay overnight somewhere, or several nights, even, so I keep a kitbag in the boot of my car, so I’m not stuck without clean clothes and toiletries.”

“Hence your sinful jeans, I suppose?” Serena asks, smirking. She hooks her index fingers into the belt loops and tugs Bernie closer.

“Sinful, eh?” the Major asks in a teasing tone.

“Very. Delightfully so.”

“Mmhmm.” Bernie kisses her and Serena kisses back eagerly, then whines when the blonde pulls away before things can get any more heated. “I’ll be right back, I promise,” she says, and in a few moments Serena hears the front door open, then the sound of Bernie’s car boot opening and closing. When she walks into the hallway, there’s a khaki kitbag on the floor and the Major is shedding her boots again.

She pads down the hallway and Bernie looks up, the heat and unadulterated hunger in her gaze making Serena feel as if her own body’s been set on fire. She clasps Bernie’s hand in her own and tugs her towards the stairs. 

“Let’s go to bed,” she repeats.

Then she lets out a shriek of shock as she finds herself scooped up from the floor, one strong arm under her knees, the other wrapped around her shoulders.

“Put me down, you maniac!” she cries once she’s recovered from the initial shock. “You’ll hurt your back.”

“Which door?” Bernie asks as she reaches the top of the stairs.

“That one.” Serena points it out and finds herself carried over the threshold of her own bedroom before Bernie sets her back on her feet beside the bed.

“You ridiculous woman,” she scolds. “You could’ve hurt your back.”

“Didn’t, though,” Bernie says, smirking in that frankly devastating fashion as she slides the strap of her kitbag off her shoulder. 

Serena pokes her shoulder. “Don’t do that again,” she scolds.

“No ma’am!” She mock salutes and Serena growls, then grabs her by the shoulders and kisses her a little more aggressively than usual. 

To judge by Bernie’s eager response, she doesn’t mind in the least, and the two are soon fumbling with each other’s clothes, desperately trying to get each other naked without pausing in their kisses. Eventually, however, Bernie pulls back with a soft laugh. 

“This is ridiculous,” she says, and proceeds to strip out of her clothes with a charming lack of self consciousness. Serena wonders if it’s a result of being in the army – communal showers and all that. By the time Bernie’s completely naked, Serena’s got no further than removing her silk blouse and she pauses in the act of reaching for the hem of her own vest top to take in the woman before her: long, lithe limbs that are well muscled and strong; breasts smaller than her own more generously proportioned ones; a neatly trimmed bush, as she’d suspected; a faint scar on the side of her neck and a more prominent one between her breasts; and dark eyes alight with desire – and amusement, she notes, and realises that she’s staring unabashedly.

“Sorry,” she whispers and reaches for the bottom of her vest top again.

“Don’t be sorry,” Bernie says, and steps back into Serena’s personal space, cupping her cheeks and kissing her softly and sweetly. “I don’t mind.”

Serena is half expecting Bernie to finish undressing her, but instead she steps back, then stands with her feet spread and her hands on her hips. 

“Well then, recruit, hop to it.” The tone is stern, but her eyes are twinkling, and Serena mock salutes as Bernie had done earlier, then proceeds to undress herself. She feels a little self conscious when she considers her own figure compared to Bernie’s – she has far more obvious curves than the blonde – but when she meets the Major’s eyes, all she sees is appreciation and desire.

“You’re gorgeous, love,” Bernie says, her voice a low rumble filled with want, and she steps back into Serena’s person space again. She finds herself being kissed as the other woman runs her hands approvingly over Serena’s body. 

After a few moments, Bernie lifts her up, then lowers her onto the bed, before climbing up beside her. “I want you,” she says, “like I haven’t wanted anyone since Alex. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” Serena whispers.

“Good.”

They kiss languidly for a while, Bernie’s hands running ceaselessly over Serena’s body, as if mapping it for future reference, and she finds herself feeling a little tearful at the reverence in Bernie’s touches. Before she can become too emotional, however, those hands become more purposeful and Serena can’t help a soft moan escaping as Bernie’s right hand slides up the inside of her leg and strokes her inner thigh. 

“Okay?” she asks.

Serena gasps her agreement, then moans more loudly when strong, supple fingers begin to tease her entrance. Before she can get frustrated, one finger eases between her slick folds and Serena groans in pleasure. 

A short time later she comes with a wail and when she can focus again, Bernie’s grinning at her in obvious satisfaction. “I do like a responsive woman,” she says, before nipping at Serena’s bottom lip, then laving it with her tongue.

“What about you?” Serena asks once she can form a coherent sentence again. “Are you responsive.” She shifts, pushing Bernie onto her back and going straight for the kill. They both moan when Serena pushes two fingers inside the Major and discovers how hot and wet she is already. “Very responsive, indeed,” Serena purrs and proceeds to give as good as she got, driving Bernie to a long, loud orgasm that makes her glad that she lives in a leafy detached.

Eventually they peel themselves from the bed and take it in turns to shower, Serena changing the sheets while Bernie’s cleaning up, then they pull on their bedclothes, which in Bernie’s case consists of a pair of grey boxers, a faded RAMC t-shirt which Serena guesses Alex gave to her, and a pair of black leggings. She herself dons a pair of brushed cotton pyjamas that she knows will keep her warm and comfortable. Then they curl up together and exchange soft, sleepy kisses until Serena falls asleep in Bernie’s arms. 

Her last thought before falling asleep is that she could quite easily fall in love with Major Bernie Wolfe. It’s a thought that ought to alarm her, but somehow it doesn’t. She’s been lacking in companionship for so long that the idea is actually a welcome one. She wonders whether Bernie feels the same way and feels only peace at the thought of the two of them together.


End file.
